The Road I Walked
by Viskari
Summary: Port Mafia boss Ogai Mori sends Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara, and Hiratsuka Raicho, on an assignment to collect a valuable artifact from a gifted group based in Egypt, calling themselves Anubis' Army. When things go bad, Dazai disappears. With Mori's orders still standing, Chuuya and Hiratsuka must find a way to collect the artifact and return home with Anubis' Army on the war path
1. Chapter 1

Yokohama – Six months after the conclusion of the Dragon's Head Conflict

It was a room with a view – no one could say otherwise. The room stretched the length of the high rise, covered in lush carpet and expensive furniture in royal colors. One wall consisted of nothing but clear glass windows, which let in the sunlight from sunrise to sunset, and the light of the moon and stars and twinkling city lights between those hours. Beneath the wall of windows stretched the city of Yokohama, a thriving metropolis of people living their normal lives atop the back of the black market and the underground gangs that ran the city. It was a city of bloodshed and violence, and something in the air of late called to mind a time bomb. There had been more frequent skirmishes in the streets. The death toll of gang members over the last few months had reached an unprecedented height. The entire city was still catching its breath after the massacre that would come to be known as the Dragon's Head Conflict.

Ogai Mori sat behind his desk on the far end of the room, elbows resting on the wooden surface, hands position to conceal half of his face from his subordinate. He surveyed the young executive swathed in a long coat on which the boy could never seem to find the sleeves. Mori rather enjoyed these private moments, particularly the seconds between an order given and the reaction it caused. It felt almost like a power struggle; Osamu Dazai was possibly the only person in Yokohama who held more cards than Mori himself.

Dazai stood in front of the desk, beyond Mori's reach. His bandaged arms were crossed inside the open coat, his head slightly bowed, eyes closed as if relaxed as he politely asked why he'd been called into the head of the Port Mafia's office.

Mori answered calmly. "Do you remember that small Egyptian band that traveled through our city some weeks before the outbreak of violence? The called themselves Anubis' Army. They were led by a gifted man by the name of Tawfiq al-Hakim. While they were here in Yokohama I extended them every courtesy, even going so far as to loan them some several millions in funds, which they have not repaid." Mori paused, eyes fixed on Dazai. "While I would like the money returned to me, there is something of even higher value that they possess. Here's what I want you to do."

It had been a good day. A mission was complete with no casualties before lunch time, no new orders had come in yet, and the whole afternoon promised nothing but free time before the next assignment, scheduled for dusk that night. He'd planned to find a tree or something and pass out under it for a few hours.

It had been such a good day. That's probably why that jerk stopped him the hall.

"Hey, Chuuya!" Dazai said in that singsong voice that made him want to rip out the executive's voice box. "Pack your bags! We're going to Egypt!"

Chuuya didn't even glance at him, continuing his walk down the hall. "Whatever. I'm not going to Egypt."

"I thought you might see it that way. Good thing I packed your bags for you!"

Chuuya whipped around. "You what!? You little-"

Dazai chuckled. "Relax; it's just for a couple days. Besides, these orders come straight from the boss, and you wouldn't want to annoy him now, would you?"

"How about I throw down on your ass and we'll see who's annoyed!"

"Now, now, Chuuya, we have someone coming along with us," Dazai said in mock-soothing tones. "So you're gonna have to keep your gloves on and show respect, 'kay?" Dazai tossed him a suitcase. "We're meeting her on the helipad, so hurry up."

Chuuya caught the suitcase deftly and dropped it on the floor. "What's the mission?"

"I'll brief you both at the same time. It's just the three of us, so take whatever you think you'll need for that. I'll meet you on the helipad in half an hour."

Deciding he was too tired to argue any further, Chuuya picked up his bag and took it to the locker room several floors below. He replaced and carried the bag to the top floor over his shoulder. A sleek, black jet sat on the helipad, doors open. He limbed inside, taking the farthest seat from Dazai, who sat with his legs crossed, a black portfolio in his lap. Chuuya stretched out, making himself comfortable.

"Wow, when you stretch out like that, you almost take up a whole seat."

Chuuya moved to launch himself across the jet, cursing colorfully, but stopped before he was out of the seat. Someone gripped the handrail inside the jet and pulled herself up. "The only other jet is being repaired; Dazai, shut up."

Chuuya stopped dead. She took the seat beside Dazai, throwing her bag into the seat across from her, and strapping in. She looked at him and smiled. "Hey, Nakahara. It's been a while."

Chuuya snarled. A hundred memories flooded his mind; late-night stakeouts, firefights, watching other kids die around them. He'd seen her get shot! He'd thought she was dead. "Hiratsuka Raicho," he ground out. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh, you two know each other?" Dazai asked, playing dumb as usual. "And here I thought I'd have to do awkward introductions."

Chuuya ignored him. He watched as Hiratsuka put her elbow on Dazai's shoulder and leaned back. So that's the way things were. He couldn't really think of anything to say, but "traitor" seemed to sum it up nicely.

"Drop the righteous act, please," she replied, waving her hand dismissively. "You're sitting in this jet, too, which means you switched sides."

"I didn't make them think I was dead," he growled. "Hell, we mourned for you! Ryo was crushed-"

"Technically, she was always-"

"Shut up!" Chuuya snapped.

Dazai held up a hand and settled for looking out of the window. "Let me know when you two are done."

"We're done," Hiratsuka said.

"We're so not done!" Chuuya argued.

"We're done _for now, _Nakahara. Dazai, tell us about the mission." Hiratsuka's hand grazed Dazai's on its way to the portfolio. She took it from him and read the first few lines. "Egypt is a far cry from Yokohama; what are we doing there?"

Dazai took the file from her and closed it. "We're picking up something the boss wants. It's an artifact with special properties allowing it to absorb and then emit the abilities of whichever gifted touches it. The boss has made arrangements with the group in possession of it, a gifted group called Anubis' Army; we're meeting their representative in the Great Hypostyle Hall in Karnak, Egypt."

Chuuya leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "That sounds awfully simple; why the hell is he sending three gifted to collect it?"

"Does he suspect a trap?" Hiratsuka asked.

Dazai smirked. "Something like that."

"Be more specific."

Dazai chuckled and brushed a strand of blonde hair from her face. "You know I wish I could, but the boss wants you two to be surprised. You'll get lazy if you think you know everything."

"And we'll get dead if we go in with nothing."

Chuuya watched Hiratsuka's finger brush Dazai's and stay touching him. He thought he may be sick. He opened his mouth to ask just what was going on here, but decided he didn't want to know. This mission might kill him. He heard the engine of the jet start.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Dazai said. "Chuuya, the pilot doesn't think he can lift off from such a small runway. Do you mind-"

Chuuya stood. "I'm not your damn problem-solver, bastard." But he hung over the side of the plane anyway and knocked on the pilot's window. "Get ready to punch it!" he shouted over the din of the engine. He focused and manipulated the gravity around the jet, making it shoot straight up in the air. The moment they lifted off, the pilot thrust the throttle and they were off like a rocket.

Chuuya took a second to feel the wind whip around his coat and through his hair. If he jumped now, he wouldn't have to stay in the plane with those idiots or leave the city and go to some blistering-hot sandpit to get some ancient relic like an errand boy. But there was the matter of the consequences of orders disobeyed. He ducked back inside, slammed the door, and resumed his seat.

"Thanks, but next time, a little easier on the takeoff, 'kay, buddy?" Dazai said, massaging his lower back with one hand. His other hand was in Hiratsuka's. Chuuya took his hat and lowered it over his face. He knew he should have jumped out when he can the chance.


	2. Chapter 2

Dazai spent most of the twelve hour flight absorbed in his book on suicides while Hiratsuka alternated between sleep and reading a book of poetry. Chuuya slept for several hours to pass time. With three hours of flight time to go, he took a bottle of wine and slid the jet door open. Ignoring Dazai's warning not to scuff up the paint job, he walked out onto the wing and sat down, letting his legs dangle over the land thousands of feet below.

The jet landed without incident on a long strip of runway with the dessert shining on one side and the modern city of Luxor, Egypt on the other. The pilot was ordered to wait on the runway; he would refuel, but no more. It would be a quick trip, Dazai promised. They had a car waiting for them, another sleek black piece of machinery to match the jet. They tossed their bags in the back seat of the car. Dazai climbed into the driver's seat and Chuuya took shotgun, replying to Hiratsuka's protests with a harsh snap. She took the middle seat in the back and leaned forward, touching the edge of Dazai's coat.

"Don't speak," Dazai ordered them as he started up the car. He drove to a security barrier and rolled down the window. "Hello, officer!" he said cheerfully to the guard who stopped them. He withdrew a wallet from some inside pocket of his coat and showed a photo ID to the man waiting for it. The guard took his time, eyes moving between the ID and Dazai's face.

The guard asked something in Arabic. Dazai realized the mistake and cursed. He looked in the rearview mirror at Hiratsuka. "Can you deal with this?"

Hiratsuka nodded and took a wallet identical to Dazai's from her pocket. She rolled down her window and said something in Arabic, surprising the guard. Chuuya watched her flirt and rolled his eyes. It brought back memories that made him feel like a fool. The guard seemed to eat it up, though. They were let through the barrier in under a minute.

"Nice work, Hiratsuka," Dazai commented. "Who knew you were so good with married men?"

She chuckled and held up the slip of paper the guard had given her. "He gave us a voucher so we can get back in in a hurry."

"Good; that'll be useful. I have a feeling we'll run into some trouble."

Chuuya's hands clenched and unclenched restlessly. "God, let us run into trouble."

"Bored, Chuuya?" Dazai mocked. "If you need something to do, you can always run alongside the car like a good little dog."

"Enough with the damn bet; it was rigged and you know it!" Chuuya snapped.

"It wasn't rigged; you're just bad at playing games."

"Shut up and listen to your orders."

"You think you can boss me around just because you're some big-shot executive!? We're on foreign soil now, and after I get rid of Raicho, there won't be witnesses!"

Dazai shrugged, utterly unconcerned. "It would be a total waste of my time."

The car started to shake; the wheel in Dazai's hands listed. "You think you could take me!?"

Dazai reached out a hand and touched Chuuya's cheek without looking. "Ah, ah, ah; calm down, Chuuya. Patience is a virtue. We get through this mission, and then you can get your ass kicked."

"Boys, relax," Hiratsuka said from the back. "Try to remember we're professionals."

Chuuya glanced at her in the rearview mirror. She was absentmindedly running a white scarf tied around her waist through her fingers, eyes watching the dessert disappear behind them as they drive into the city. He didn't remember the white scarf, but she was otherwise pretty much how he remembered her. Long blonde hair, brown eyes focused on something no one else could see when the action was low. She even wore the same basic outfit: tank top, tight black pants, and combat boots. It was unsettling how much she hadn't changed.

"I know it's been a while, Nakahara," she said without taking her eyes from the window, "but it's still impolite to stare."

Chuuya's cheeks warmed, but he didn't look away. "Well, it's not every day I see a corpse walking."

She sighed and turned to look at him. "Let's just focus on the mission, okay? Dazai, what are we walking into?"

Dazai drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "It should be a simple exchange. We give them the money in that bag next to you, and they give us the artifact. Then we go home!"

"Why the hell did we have to pack bags, then?" Chuuya asked irritably.

"For the flight, obviously."

Chuuya glanced at Hiratsuka and met her eyes; clearly she hadn't been informed the bags were for the flight, either. He looked away quickly.

"I'll do the talking," Dazai continued. "You two just stand behind me and try to look impressive." He paused. "Though that'll be pretty hard for Chuuya. Maybe you should stand on something to add a few inches. Hiratsuka, can he borrow your heels-"

He was cut off by a swift punch to the jaw. The steering wheel jerked to the side, making the car swerve into oncoming traffic for a brief moment. Hiratsuka jumped forward, grabbed the wheel, and jerked it back to avoid a truck. "Both of you, stop it!" she snapped.

"He started it!" Chuuya argued.

"I know who started!" she snapped back. "Dazai, stop antagonizing Nakahara! I know it's your second-favorite hobby, but for goodness sakes, give it a rest. And Nakahara, don't be so easily baited."

"I am not-"

"Yes, you are!" She slumped back in her seat. "God, it's like dealing with preschoolers!"

Dazai opened his mouth to argue. Hiratsuka jerked her scarf from around her waist and flung it over Dazai's mouth. "Not another word!" She tied the scarf securely to the headrest, pinning his head in place and keeping the scarf tight over his mouth.

Chuuya smirked at the look on Dazai's face. Now _that_ was worth a twelve hour flight. He watched Dazai turn and glare at him, and his smirk widened. "I could get used to this."

Dazai made a rude gesture with his right hand. Chuuya just laughed. The rest of the drive was silent. After parking the car, Hiratsuka untied the scarf and let him go. Dazai tiled his head, causing his neck to pop. "Mental note: Do not attempt to hang self."

"I'll do it for you," Chuuya offered, climbing out of the car. The Egyptian sun bore down on them. Only the memory of the last time he used Corruption kept Chuuya from removing his long coat in an attempt to cool off. He rather envied Hiratsuka's freedom to leave her arms bare. At least Dazai was staying in his black overcoat, too.

"They should already be here," Dazai said, closing his car door. A black case was clasped in his hand.

Hiratsuka retied the scarf around her waist and shouldered a heavy-looking bag. Dazai led the way through the parking lot and onto the sandy stretch of land covered in ruins. Ancient walls the same color as the sand rose from the ground like massive tombstones, shaded in places by the occasional palm tree. A rectangular pool in the distance reflected the clear sky, changing the color from blue to green on the surface of the water. The three of them walked over a barren stretch of land and passed through statues of strange beasts lining an ancient stone walkway. They entered the gates of the main ruins.

"What was this place?" Chuuya asked in a hushed voice.

"The Temple of Amun," Hiratsuka replied. "Luxor used to be the capital of Egypt during the 11th Dynasty. There are rumors it was built by gifted."

They walked through the central temple and through a gate similar to the first, passing tourists taking pictures and examining the hieroglyphs. A vast, open hallway stretched before them, decorated with enormous columns placed at regular intervals every few feet. Chuuya could see why it had been picked as a meeting spot. It offered eerily good cover.

Dazai turned left and led them around the columns. A group of men wearing robes of white and red with black turbans stood at the far wall. So this must be Anubis' Army. Dazai raised a hand in greeting, and Chuuya and Hiratsuka flanked him.

"Hey there!" Dazai called. "So you're Anubis' Army? Which one is Tawfiq al-Hakim?"

In broken Japanese, the man in front replied, "You are from the Port Mafia?"

"We sure are!" Dazai held up the bag in his hand. "We've got the money. You have something for us?" Al-Hakim waved a hand. A young man behind him stepped out, holding an object wrapped in a thick cloth. He handed it to al-Hakim. "Perfect. Same time, then."

Dazai and al-Hakim both took a step forward. Chuuya let his eyes wander over Anubis' Army in front of them. Something didn't feel right. It was too easy. He glanced at Hiratsuka, sharing a look. She seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Dazai and al-Hakim met. Chuuya saw a flash of red, and three shots rang out. He caught the bullet aimed at his head and threw it at al-Hakim, grazing Dazai's cheek. On his right, he saw Hiratsuka dive behind a column. Chuuya blasted apart the rock underneath him and shot it into the air. In a split second he took in the snipers positioned on top of the broken columns. He broke the rock into three pieces and blasted them at the snipers.

Below, Dazai stooped and scooped up the concealed artifact before al-Hakim's body hit the sand. Screams of frightened tourists swelled like a wave around them. He dove behind the nearest column, pulling a gun from his coat. He heard the crunch of rock hitting rock, and the thump of three bodies hitting the ground.

"Chuuya!" he shouted over the din. "This is a UNESCO site! Don't destroy it!" Chuuya landed behind a column beside Dazai's. Dazai took a clip from his coat and threw it to him. Chuuya caught it effortlessly and opened it. With a wicked grin, he threw the bullets into the air and threw out his hand. The bullets flew through the air and struck the exposed Anubis' Army agents.

Machinegun fire filled the air. Bullets crashed against the column covering Chuuya; bits of rock and dust filled the air. Smoke billowed from the ground. A bolt of lightning flashed above, striking the top of the column Hiratsuka hid behind. The bolt tore through the rock and struck the ground with a deafening sound.

They had gifted.

Chuuya swore and threw out his hands, bringing them down to his sides in a violent motion. The smoke cleared, drawn back to the earth. He found Hiratsuka a hundred feet away, pushing herself up from the ground. She wasn't hurt. He turned to the place Dazai had been. He wasn't there. The idiot was probably doing something suicidal.

Hiratsuka dove behind the column to Chuuya's left. She dragged her pack beside her and tore it open. She withdrew three pieces and snapped them together, forming a rifle. Lightning struck a column, ripping it apart. Chuuya's ears rang from the sound. Swearing again, he drove his fist into the side of the column nearest to him. He took the chunk that broke off and stepped out from behind the column. He froze the bullets in midair and turned them around, firing them back at Anubis' Army. A bolt of lightning tore through the sky at him. He grabbed a column and held it above his head to block the bolt.

The lightning stopped. A body fell a few feet away from him, a bullet in his head. Chuuya split his focus for a second, taking note of Hiratsuka reloading the riffle with surprising speed, spare bullets in her mouth. He turned back and advanced on the gang, heedless of the bullets raining down on him. He heard the crack of a riffle from behind him, each sound bringing another man to the ground until there was only one left. Chuuya knocked the gun out of the boy's hands with one hand and grabbed him by the throat with the other. He slammed the kid into the wall and drew a knife, holding it to the boy's throat.

The boy couldn't have been older than fourteen, and it showed. Luck had left him the sole survivor. "Who's behind this!?" Chuuya demanded.

The young man stuttered out a frightened response. "Tawfiq – Tawfiq al-Hakim."

"He's dead on the ground! Do better than that!"

"He's not dead!"

"The hell are you talking about, kid? I saw him get shot!"

"Nakahara!" He barely had time to look around before something solid slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. He caught himself on the dirt and pulled himself up using his ability. Hiratsuka stood where he had, two knives buried in her torso: one held in her stomach by the boy, the other held in her back by a stiff-bodied, blood-gushing Tawfiq al-Hakim. Chuuya pulled a rock from the ground and forced it at al-Hakim, crushing his skull. Hiratsuka pulled the knife out of her back and stabbed it into the wall beside the boy's head.

The boy looked shell-shocked. "How…!?"

Hiratsuka turned him around and slammed his face into the stone wall. She pulled handcuffs from her pocket and clapped them around the boy's wrists. "I'm a gifted," she explained. "My ability is called 'The Road I Walked,' and it prevents any outside force from harming my body." She drew the knife out of her stomach. The blade was clean. She glanced at Chuuya. "Where's Dazai?"

"No idea. I lost sight of him in the fight."

"Find him," she said. "I'll take this kid back to the car. We need to get out of here before the police show up." She pulled the scarf from her waist and tied it over the lower half of her face. "Make sure no one can identify you."

Chuuya rolled his eyes. "I'm not an amateur." He left her to deal with the walked up the nearest column and stood on the top. He looked over the plane, but saw nothing. Jumping from column to column to change perspective did nothing, either. Dazai was gone.

He found the relic unwrapped in the last place he'd been Dazai. Chuuya didn't know much about Egyptian artifacts, but he'd bet good money it was a fake. He took it anyway. By the time he got back to the car, Hiratsuka was already in the driver's seat. He climbed in beside her, tossing the artifact in the back seat. Sirens wailed nearby as she revved the engine.

"Where's our new friend?" Chuuya asked as she drove out of the parking lot and headed back to the airport.

"Tied up in the trunk," she replied. "No Dazai?"

"As shocking as it is, no Dazai," he admitted. He removed his hat and dusted it off. They passed a police car. "He's probably at the airport with half Anubis' Army. That, or he's floating down the Nile."

"Let's hope it's the former."

They got the airport without being stopped. Hiratsuka took out the slip of paper the guard had given her before and showed it to the guards at the gate. They were allowed through at once. She drove down the short road and rounded a corner. The jet was gone. In its place, spread out over the runway, were scattered pieces of machinery and a soot-black scar on the asphalt.

Chuuya swore. The car screeched to a stop as sirens grew louder behind them. Police cars swerved around them, caging them in. A loud, angry voice said something in Arabic over a loudspeaker.

"They want us to come out with our hands up," Hiratsuka translated calmly. "They're going to arrest us."

"Well, that's not gonna happen." Chuuya cracked his knuckles. "Get out of the car like they said. When we're clear, take my hand and activate your ability." Not waiting for acknowledgement, he opened his car door. He held his hands in the air and stepped away from the car. Hiratsuka did the same, joining him, walking around the front to meet him.

Quick as lightning, he wrapped an arm around her waist and shot into the sky, using a block of pavement to propel them upwards. Below them, commands were shouted and the police opened fire. Chuuya scattered the pieces of the rock and they rained down on the cops.

Chuuya landed back on the ground, cracking the pavement. He pushed Hiratsuka toward the car and dove into the driver's seat. He waited for Hiratsuka to jump into the car before stepping on the gas. The car shot forward down the runway. Hiratsuka's car door slammed shut. Bullets broke through the rear windshield, shattering the glass.

"Punch it!" Hiratsuka shouted over the din.

Chuuya shifted gears and forced the car into the air. It shot over the airport and came down on a road on the other side, narrowly missing another vehicle. He switched gears again and took off into the city. "We'll have to throw this car somewhere," Chuuya said.

"Drive straight ahead; we can dump it in the Nile," she replied. "We need to cross the river; there'll be better chances of finding cover there."

Chuuya took the first major road he came to and followed it west toward the Nile. They didn't speak as he dodged cars and wove in and out of traffic to get as far ahead from the police as he could. They reached the east bank of the Nile and parked on the street. They pulled their bags from the back seat, left the kid in the trunk, hijacked the first boat they found, and drove it across the river.


	3. Chapter 3

Chuuya and Hiratsuka stashed their bags behind a dumpster on the other side of the Nile River. They found a bar and slid inside as it was opening, taking a table in the back. Hiratsuka ordered a glass of water. Chuuya, ignoring Hiratsuka's reproachful glare, ordered a glass of wine.

"Can I see some ID?" the waitress asked in Arabic.

Chuuya couldn't understand the language, but he got the gist. He flashed her a grin. "Absolutely." He pulled out his wallet and showed her his driver's license. She checked the age, handed it back, and walked away.

"First of all," Hiratsuka started, "I am not dealing with you drunk. Secondly, the legal drinking age for wines in this country is twenty-one."

Chuuya grinned. "I am twenty-one." He showed her the license. Sure enough, the birth date on the card was twenty-one years ago. "Say what you want about the boss, but the man knows how to keep his employees happy and effective."

Hirastuka scowled and handed the card back to him. "You don't look twenty-one."

"Aw, what a sweet thing to say." He grinned as the waitress brought their drinks out and gave her a wink. "Screw the legal drinking age; it's been a weird day." He forewent the traditional pre-tasting sniff and took a swig. He winced. "God, this stuff is awful." Hiratsuka watched him for a moment, taking a careful sip of water. He seemed a lot more at ease without Dazai there. Chuuya raised the glass to his lips again and caught her staring. He lowered the glass, irritated. "What?"

"Nothing," she lied, shrugging. She took a sip and set her glass down. "Look, we need to come up with a plan."

"What plan? The way I see it, we just call the boss and have him pull us out. We'll be outta here in twelve hours when the other jet comes. We've just gotta lay low until that happens."

Hiratsuka watched him for a long moment. Did he really think it was going to be that easy? "Nakahara, I know you're not stupid. Do you really think we're getting out of this with an extraction?" Chuuya sighed and pulled out his phone. He dialed a number quickly and held the phone to his ear as it rang. "Who are you calling?"

"The idiot who brought us here," he answered. After a long pause, he cursed and pulled the phone away.

"No word from Dazai, then," she concluded. She could see in his eyes that he wasn't taking this as well as he'd let on only a moment ago. Good. "Is there someone else who might-"

"Yeah." Chuuya dialed another number and sat back in his chair, listening to it ring. She answered quickly. "Koyo, it's me," Chuuya said. "What the hell is going on?"

Hiratsuka sat up straighter. He had a direct line to executive Koyo Ozaki? She was right; he wasn't stupid.

Chuuya explained what had happened and where they were now with as little detail as possible, wanting an answer quickly. He received no immediate reply. His hand tightened on the phone. "Koyo," he growled. "We're really in a bind here."

After another moment, she replied. _"I spoke with Mori; he says your orders still stand." _

"Well tell him it's not possible," Chuuya snapped.

"_Shut up and do as you're told," _Koyo scolded. _"He still wants the artifact." _Chuuya could hear her moving around in the background; a door closed. _"Listen, Chuuya, he's not going to change his mind. The only way you get to come home is with that relic." _

"I hear you, but we're already on the wanted list."

"_Then work around it! You're a member of the Port Mafia; you're trained for this." _She paused. _"Officially, you're not there. Any crimes you commit in Egypt you can be arrested and prosecuted for. Mori said you're on your own; don't call back until you have that relic." _

"But what about-"

"_Figure it out yourselves!" _

The line went dead. "Shit!" Chuuya snapped, shoving the phone back in his pocket.

"What did she say?" Hiratsuka asked.

"She says we're on our own." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "They're not pulling us out until we get the damned artifact. And they're not sending help, either."

Hiratsuka took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She wanted to say something stupid and obvious, like _this isn't good, _but decided it wouldn't help anything. She ran a hand through her hair and massaged her temple. "Let me get this straight," she said slowly. "We're stuck in a foreign country with no hope of aid?"

"Yeah." Chuuya finished his glass of wine. "That pretty much sums it up."

A sickening silence spread between them. The gravity of the situation draped over them like a blanket, threatening to suffocate them. It was hopeless. More than that, it was _cruel. _How could two people, albeit gifted, be expected to track down an artifact neither of them knew anything about while tearing through a gifted organization and a national government without getting caught?

Hiratsuka bowed her head, pinched the bridge of her nose, and closed her eyes, thinking hard. It seemed so hopeless. How could she work with Chuuya Nakahara of all people? He was reckless. That demon of destruction inside him kept him in a constant state of flux; a human time bomb filled with anger. She had worked with him before, but that had been years ago, before he'd become a member of the Port Mafia. And it had been a lie. She opened her eyes and studied him for a while.

A thought began forming in her head, a disturbing one, an insane one built on memory. Maybe their time together had been a lie, but she'd still gotten to know him during her time as a Sheep. He'd been younger, less sharpened, but so had she. He'd had desires, dreams, demands before the Mafia had gotten ahold of him, and maybe he still had them. Arahabaki was an unreasonable and reckless force, but Chuuya Nakahara wasn't; she knew that better than anyone.

"I think we can do it," she heard herself say. She realized she meant it.

Chuuya looked at her like she'd grown an extra head. "Really?"

"Yeah." Her answer was confident. "Really."

Chuuya laughed. "You really think we can get that artifact? We have no money, no backup, no one to pull our asses out of the fire if we get arrested-"

"No place to stay," she continued for him. "No information on Anubis' Army or what the hell we're looking for. No Dazai as a safeguard in case our only option is Corruption. No Dazai to pull last-minute miracles out of thin air. We are totally on our own."

Chuuya raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "Why do you sound so confident?"

"Because I know we can do this."

"How in hell?"

"We worked together before," she reminded him.

"Yeah; in another life. I thought you were dead until fourteen hours ago!"

She sighed deeply and leaned across the table. It seemed he was going to take some convincing. "We worked really well together in the Sheep, and I think we can do it again. Look, I'm not asking you to trust me or forgive me or any of that crap, I'm asking you to work with me. Can you do that?"

Chuuya looked at her long and hard. He couldn't find a hint of dishonesty in her eyes. Of course, he usually couldn't find it in Dazai's eyes, either, and that snake was the best liar he'd ever met, so that didn't count for a whole lot in the Port Mafia. On the other hand… what did he have to lose that wasn't at risk either way. After a tense moment he downed the rest of the wine and set the glass down. "What's our first move?"

Relieved, Hiratsuka sat back in her chair again. "We need money."

"How much have we got?"

"Of Egyptian currency? Let's just say, that glass of wine cleaned us out."

"Crap." He thought for a moment. Slowly, a wicked grin spread across his face. "I know how we can get some quick cash." He stood and stretched. "Remember when the Sheep got low on funds?"

Memories crowded into her mind, asking for attention until she picked the right one. Her mouth broke into a grin to match his. "You really aren't as dumb as you look, Nakahara. Rock, paper, scissors for it?"

He shrugged. He picked scissors, she picked paper. She'd _always _picked paper, he remembered. He grinned when she cursed. "Alright, pay the bill and let's get out of here."

The bill left them with hardly any money to spare; they wouldn't be able to get dinner on that, much less find a decent place to hole up. They walked down the street and waited for a mark that looked worth their time. After half an hour, they saw a red sports car. Chuuya stepped away from her and waited for the fun.

Hiratsuka untied the scarf from around her waist and let the breeze catch it, blowing it into the road. She activated her ability and stepped into traffic, pretending to chase the fabric. Breaks screeched, but not in time; the car slammed into her. She made her body buckle under the collision, collapsing to the ground. She released her ability at the last moment, making sure her face hit the pavement to cause enough blood to make the act look real.

She heard Chuuya swear in English and run up to her. A car door slammed and someone else knelt by her head. A gloved hand grabbed her wrist.

"She's alive," she heard Chuuya say.

"I swear I didn't see her!" She could tell by the tone of voice and near-perfect English that the man who hit her was rich. "We should take her to the hospital!"

"I'll take her; there's no time to get an ambulance! What's your name; they'll want to ask who hit her."

The man sputtered and stammered. "I really don't need this," he muttered.

"I guess I can forget that I saw it."

_Too soon! _Hiratsuka thought, inwardly cursing Chuuya's impatience.

The man hesitated, then said quickly, "How much?"

Chuuya named an absurdly high price. The man started to argue, but shut up when Chuuya threatened to tell the police. She heard the car door open and close again, and money trading hands. She was picked up and pulled out of the road. The car sped off.

Hiratsuka sat up and wiped the blood from her upper lip. "You are one hard negotiator," she complimented. "Two hundred thousand Egyptian pounds is a lot of money. How'd you know he'd have that much on him?"

Chuuya shrugged. "I made an educated guess." He retrieved her scarf from the road and handed it back to her. They retraced their steps and collected their bags from the alley where they'd stashed them.

The next order of business was finding a decent place to stay. They decided on a hotel half-way between the Nile and the western desert, which happened to be one of the nicest hotels in Egypt. After all, Chuuya pointed out, just because they were probably going to die there didn't mean they couldn't live a little in the meantime. This decision resulted in the necessity to change clothes. They chose the first clothing store they came to. Hiratsuka bought clothes that looked expensive enough to throw off the suspicions of the people at the front desk. They walked back to the hotel laden with packages, Hiratsuka in her new pencil skirt and matching blazer. She checked them in, with occasional interruptions from Chuuya, and succeeded in getting them two rooms across the hallway from each other.

They exchanged keys and each went to their own rooms to unpack. Chuuya surveyed his room after closing the door. His eyes lighted on the minibar. "That's dangerous," he murmured, a smirk forming on his lips. Maybe this assignment wouldn't be completely horrible. He shrugged off his coat and tossed it over the back of the chair by the desk. He set his suitcase down the bed before exploring the room more actively. It was paranoia, he knew, but he'd rather be well acquainted with the room's contours and hiding places in case something happened. The room was spacious and allowed for fairly wide mobility. The black, white, and gold décor could potentially be taxing on the senses if a flash bomb were to go off. The bathroom was clean as a whistle, and the shower had a handy frosted glass door; if they needed to stash a body of something, it would do nicely, providing they didn't make a mess. Next he examined the window. The room was on the eighth floor of the high rise hotel; roughly eighty feet of space separated him from the ground. Child's play for him; he could walk down the side of the building in a pinch.

His examination complete, Chuuya turned his attention to unpacking. He opened his suitcase and riffled through what he brought. He hid half of the knives in various locations around the room that would provide quick and easy access to a weapon in a pinch. The clothes he carefully took out, shook to clear the worst of the wrinkles, and hung up in the bathroom to be steamed when he took a shower. He shook his head at himself as he did it. Koyo was rubbing off on him.

As he worked, he considered his present circumstances. The more he thought about it, the fishier the situation felt. Meeting and being forced to work with an old acquaintance from the pre-Port Mafia days he'd thought was death. Being dragged halfway across the globe by a far too cheery Dazai who disappeared when things went south. The boss refusing to extract them. The entire situation stank like a pile of crap.

Chuuya finished unpacking and poured himself a glass of wine from the bar. He did find himself in possession of a possible clue laying unopened on his bed: Dazai's bag. If there were any clues, they'd be in there. At the very least he'd get a better idea of what was going on. He unzipped and upended the bag, causing the contents to spill out in no kind of order. Clothes, pistols, and… "Shit."

His hotel room door opened and closed. Not bothering to look up, he said, "Dazai's still in town."

Hiratsuka perched herself on the foot of the bed. "How do you know that?"

Chuuya showed her the small, red book titled _The Complete Guide to Suicide. _"Because that suicidal maniac never goes anywhere without this. So either he's been captured, which I doubt, or he's following up his own angle."

She sighed. "That jerk." She paused. "You don't think he got caught in the explosion when the jet-"

Chuuya scoffed. "Dazai'd see that comin' a mile off. No, he's in town." He tossed the book down on the bed and continued looking through his partner's bag. With everything emptied, he ran his hand along the seams inside until he found a place where the lining was frayed. He pulled out the lining and took out the folder hidden inside. "Now we're getting somewhere."

Hiratsuka stood and walked behind him to get a better look. The folder contained information on Anubis' Army, specifically the members, their ranks, where they were most commonly found, and their special abilities. A frankly embarrassing amount were marked 'Unknown.' The back page was most helpful. It showed a picture of the artifact they were looking for. The picture showed a glittering, golden cross with a looped top arm. Chuuya was sure he'd seen that before.

"An Ankh," Hiratsuka said, looking at the file over his shoulder. "That's the ancient Egyptian symbol of life."

The Ankh was decorated in hieroglyphs which Dazai had failed to write down the translation of. The notes beside the picture described the relic as being created during the 10th Egyptian dynasty by powerful sorcerers or gifted. It confirmed what Dazai had previously told them: the Ankh absorbed and radiated the ability of whoever touched it. It did not say where the object was likely located.

Chuuya flipped back through the pages detailing the members of Anubis' Army, committing their faces to memory. When he was done, he set the file down on the desk and checked his watch. "Wasn't there a restaurant and bar downstairs?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "Hungry?"

"I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday, so yeah, I'm starving. We can't do anything until later tonight anyway." He picked up his coat and slid it on. "Coming?"

She shook her head. "I'll be down in a minute. I want to take a shower and look over that file first."

Chuuya merely shrugged and left the room. His eyes scanned the hallway on his short walk to the elevator. Besides the occasional fire hydrant, weapons were sparse. That wouldn't be a problem for a gifted or a professional, but it helped to file the information in his head nonetheless.

The elevator was made of thick glass, like the one at Port Mafia Headquarters. It could hold around twenty people, he estimated. He took it down to the lobby. It stopped on the sixth floor, letting in a young mom and her daughter. Chuuya nodded politely, but didn't speak to them. The little girl reminded him of Elise.

The elevator stopped on the ground floor and they went their separate ways. Chuuya glanced around the lobby, marking entrances and exits, before making his way to the restaurant. It was a rather quiet place clearly reserved for the middle to upper class, decorated in shining gold and contrasting black and white. The bar was on the left. He glanced over the clientele and took a stool at the bar. He ordered a glass of wine. He could eat after he drank. Maybe he'd order room service.

Something shifted in the room. He felt more than saw someone sit down beside him. He let out a sigh and took a sip of wine.

"Chuuya! Fancy meeting you in a place like this."

Chuuya stiffened. No way was his luck _this _bad.

He turned. It was. Dazai smiled serenely at him and jabbed him in the side. "You know you're not old enough to drink!" he scolded. "Where's Hiratsuka?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chuuya grit his teeth and faced forward again. The bartender, a pretty girl wearing a strategically low top designed to draw in better tips, placed a glass of wine in front of him. He picked up the glass and moved to the far corner of the bar, away from the other clients and, more importantly, away from Dazai. Predictably, Dazai picked up his drink and followed Chuuya, propping himself on the stool next to him.

"Isn't the bartender beautiful?" Dazai mused excitedly. "Do you think she's the type to die with me if I asked her?"

Chuuya gripped his glass so tight he was surprised it didn't crack. "No, I don't," he insisted. He took a gulp of wine and winced. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Is that any way to greet your partner?"

Chuuya's hands fisted. He wanted to hit him for being so stupid, but he knew he couldn't – not there. They were trying to lay low, and getting the cops called on them for a bar fight was a sure way to get them kicked out of the hotel at the very least. So he swallowed his anger. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. He settled for reprimanding him. "What were you thinking, running away in the middle of a firefight?"

Dazai shrugged. "I was following up my own angle."

"What angle?"

Dazai reached inside his coat and pulled out a stack of papers. "This angle. This is a list of all the properties owned by Anubis' Army – and all the artifacts connected to them on the black market. Memorize it; it'll be helpful when you go up against them."

Chuuya took the papers from him. He noticed a splotch of red on Dazai's sleeve and briefly wondered who the unfortunate was; Dazai was well known in the Mafia for his torture methods. He carefully glanced through the papers, scanning the words and making note of locations mentioned and the appearance and purpose of the artifacts.

"So, how's Hiratsuka working out?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chuuya didn't take his eyes off the pages in front of him.

"You guys worked together before, right? I understand you were pretty close in the Sheep."

"Ancient history." Chuuya took another gulp of wine and sighed. "What the hell is going on between you two, anyway? Are you dating or something?"

Dazai chuckled. "No; we're not dating. I play the same role for her that I do for you."

Chuuya considered that for a moment, thinking back to what he knew of her before. "You're a safety net," he concluded. "She's still having problems controlling it, huh?"

"Occasionally, yes. Sometimes her ability will come on without her knowledge, particularly when she's upset. 'The Road I Walked' allows her to transport dangers through her body as if she were made of vapor. Bullets shoot through her, knives reach into seemingly empty space… but when she's using it, she can't feel anything. Not even the ground she's walking on. Deep down, it terrifies her."

Chuuya didn't answer. He could easily recall instances when her ability had slipped during her time with the Sheep. One time in particular stood out in stark detail. He took another sip of wine.

Dazai sighed and turned around in his seat, leaning back on the counter. "I know you think she lied to you, and she did, but you should keep two things in mind."

"If you're about to tell me to live and let live or some other crap, I'm stopping you right there."

Dazai chuckled and waved a dismissive hand. "No, that's not what I'm saying; don't worry. I couldn't care less whether or not you _forgive _her. But you should at least hear the facts so you can _work _with her." He twisted in his seat again and turned to face Chuuya, elbow propped on the counter and cheek resting in his hand. "She was sent to infiltrate the Sheep for one purpose: to get information on you."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Chuuya asked sarcastically. His eyes were still trained on the words on the pages in his hands; it was easier not to punch Dazai when his focus was split. It was a trick he learned months ago, and probably the only thing that made living with that maniac somewhat bearable.

"Just listen." Dazai moved again, sitting normally and facing the wall of bottles behind the counter. "She was sent for two reasons: She was young enough to be a part of your Lost Boys, and her ability kept her from certain death if the demonic leader blew his top." Dazai nudged Chuuya's shoulder playfully. Chuuya shoved him back harder than was necessary, but not as hard as he wanted to. Dazai continued as if he hadn't noticed. "It wasn't easy on her, tricking you like that. She wanted to tell you truth from the moment she pretended to get poisoned, but orders are orders. It was probably one of the hardest things she's ever done."

It cut him. It cut him, and he hated himself for it. Chuuya fisted the papers in his hands and grit his teeth. "Bullshit," he growled.

"I'll let you be the judge of that. But think back: did you lose a single member to the Port Mafia between her death and your initiation?"

Chuuya scoffed. "You want me to believe the word of a lowly agent held back the boss' hand? You've told better lies in your sleep."

Dazai let out a bored sigh. "I never lie in negotiations like this, Chuuya." His eyes flashed, the mask of amusement vanishing, leaving behind eyes sharp and penetrating as a blade. "Besides, I should know; I'm the one who struck the deal with her."

Chuuya snapped. He grabbed Dazai's collar with both hands and yanked him off the stool. "You bastard!"

Dazai only smirked. "Be that as it may, I'm not lying."

Chuuya knew he wasn't lying. The optimal solution was telling the truth, after all. Dazai had little to gain by lying about this, and who knew what by telling the truth. He snarled, bringing Dazai's face close to his own. "What was the deal?"

"She faked her death, came back to the Port Mafia, promised to keep her mouth shut, and gave us everything she had on you. In exchange, we kept our hands off the Sheep." Chuuya's hands shook. Dazai kept going. "Do you have any idea how _easy_ it would have been for us to slaughter them? Children with no special abilities and only one guard dog. You didn't really think that moving hideouts and keeping your heads low could throw us off, did you?"

Damn the hotel to hell, Chuuya decided; Dazai was getting what was coming to him. He pulled one hand back, gripping Dazai's collar harder with the other. Like a bolt of lightning, something Dazai said before flashed through his mind. _"I never lie in negotiations like this." _Chuuya spun and slammed Dazai against the wall, hard enough for his head to crack against the plaster. "What do you want!?"

Dazai smirked. "What do you mean?"

"You said this is a negotiation," Chuuya reminded him through clenched teeth. "So what the hell do you want?"

"Aw! They grow up so fast, don't they?" Dazai smirked again. "Well… _up _per sae…" Chuuya glared at him. He sighed. "Alright, alright. It's simple: I just want you to work with her."

"What angle are you playing?"

Dazai shrugged. "No angle. I just think you two will make a good team. And since I need to go to Cairo for business, I'd like to leave this mission in hands I think are capable."

"So why tell me all this bullshit?"

"To get you mad at me so you'll stop being so mad at her. This is never going to work if you two don't trust each other."

"I've worked with people I don't trust before. I share a damn apartment with you, don't I? Why is this any different?"

Dazai pretended to be stung. "You don't trust me? Chuuya!"

Chuuya shook him. "Be serious!"

"This is different for one simple reason: things are about to get a whole lot more dangerous. You're on foreign soil with no help, and if you get caught, Mori isn't going to send in reinforcements. It's just you and her… and me, I guess. The stakes are higher than your pride."

"What exactly does that mean? Stop talking in these damned riddles and tell what we've gotten ourselves into!"

Dazai sighed. "I can't tell you much, but I can give you two very important pieces of information. One: this is a test for you. Mori's considering making you an executive and he wants to see what you're like under pressure."

Chuuya had heard of the tests the boss sometimes gave. Koyo had told him about hers; it wasn't exactly a walk in the park. On the other hand… he hated himself for it, but the prospect of becoming an executive was appealing. It offered access to information that may be able to answer a few burning questions he'd had for as long as he could remember being alive. All he said out loud was, "What's the second?"

"It's about Hiratsuka." Dazai paused, eyes flashing again. His mouth pulled into a smirk. In an instant, the expression was gone, replaced with delighted amusement. He smiled over Chuuya's shoulder and called, "Hiratsuka! So nice of you to join us."

Hiratsuka crossed her arms as she approached. "Can't you boys spend fifteen minutes alone without getting into a fight?"

Chuuya glanced toward her without turning his head. "This is private."

"Private as a train wreck." She took the seat next to Dazai's. "There are witnesses; I had to tell the bartender you guys are together to keep her from calling the police."

"You told her what!?" Chuuya and Dazai demanded in unison. Dazai sounded distinctly amused, but Chuuya definitely did not.

Hiratsuka laughed. "Relax, I'm joking. We should probably go somewhere more private. Come back to my room; I'll order room service."

Dazai grinned. "How romantic!"

Chuuya tightened his hold around Dazai's neck. "You-!"

Dazai shoved him away and slipped past him, running after Hiratsuka. Chuuya let out a deep sigh. He ran a hand down his face irritably and tried to collect his scattered thoughts. Why did every conversation with Dazai feel like a scripted debate that he always seemed to lose? He ordered another drink before catching the elevator back up to the eighth floor. He pulled Hiratsuka's key card from his pocket and slid it into the lock. He pushed the door open, returning the key to his pocket.

Dazai and Hiratsuka were both perched on the edge of the bed, fingers barely grazing as they rested on the bedspread. _Safety net, my ass, _Chuuya thought irritably. He didn't know what confused him more, now that he thought about it: Dazai letting someone touch his bare skin for an extended period of time, or Hiratsuka being able to stomach touching Dazai for an extended period of time. He pulled the chair away from the desk and leaned back on the workspace, half sitting on the desk.

"Are you guys going to behave long enough for us to have a nice meal?" Hiratsuka asked pointedly.

"I always behave myself in front of a beautiful woman," Dazai quipped.

"I'm gonna be sick," Chuuya muttered.

"How long until you head North, Dazai?"

He shrugged. "I should be leaving tonight. I've only got a few hours left in Luxor; we should probably make them count."

"Then let's blow this place and find their base of operations," Chuuya suggested, "instead of sitting here eating dinner like a bunch of pansies."

"I thought you were hungry." Hiratsuka smiled at him. "Besides, you and I can handle that; what we need from Dazai is information."

"Yeah, because he's always so _forthcoming_._"_

"I'm sitting right here," Dazai reminded them. He tapped the stack of papers in Hiratsuka's lap, the same ones Chuuya had glanced over before. "This is all I know of value."

"Can you give us a list of people easily cracked?" Hiratsuka asked.

Dazai chuckled. "Oh, no; you'll have to handle that. I have a list of the individuals we know of in Anubis' Army and their special abilities in my suitcase, though."

"We've seen it," Chuuya said. "It didn't give us a lot."

"I can edit it now that I've spoken to one of their members." Chuuya glanced at Dazai's sleeve again. "Most of it is standard fare, but there are a few you should watch out for. Especially you, Chuuya. Will you be a dear and get the file for me, Hiratsuka? We'll call in dinner while we wait for you."

Hiratsuka shrugged and stood up, stretching. As she walked to the door, she gave her meal request, and Dazai called after her to bring his book, too. After the door closed, he picked up the room phone and dialed the front desk. He ordered three of what Hiratsuka requested and a bottle of wine. She came back before he hung up, handed him the papers and the book, set is packed bag at their feet, and sat back down beside him.

Dazai took a pen out of his coat and began editing the files, humming to himself as he wrote. Chuuya and Hiratsuka exchanged exasperated looks. After a few minutes, Dazai handed the files back to Hiratsuka. She glanced through the changes he made and frowned. "Dazai… you only changed three pages."

"That's all the guy gave me before passing out."

"Passing out?"

"I meant dying." Dazai leaned back and propped himself up on his elbow. "You two really have your work cut out for you here."

"Why are you going to Cairo?"

"Anubis' Army is split into two major fronts: here in Luxor, and North in Cairo. Mori thinks the artifact could be hidden in the Giza complex, so I'm just going to make sure he's wrong."

"How long will you be there?"

"I really can't say. Somewhere between two days and two months, probably. If you get this city cleaned out before then, come to Cairo."

A maid came to the door with dinner. Chuuya reluctantly paid her and brought the food in. They ate amid questions asked and answered, and possibly theories thrown around and shot down. After about an hour, Dazai stood. "I should really get going; I don't want to miss my train." He shouldered his bag and walked to the door. "Oh, I almost forgot: there is one more thing." He looked back at them seriously. "One of their higher ups can raise the dead. They have an army of mummies raised from the Valley of the Kings and beyond into the desert."


	5. Chapter5

"It's just like him to drop a bomb like that and take off," Hiratsuka mused as she picked up the discarded plates.

"Try living with him," Chuuya replied. He grabbed his coat from the desk and pulled it on. "He thinks _he's _suicidal. I tell ya, after seeing him high, there's not much I wouldn't do to shut him up."

Hiratsuka laughed. "Dazai on drugs sounds more terrifying that a necromancer."

"It is." Chuuya adjusted his gloves.

Hiratsuka crossed her legs under her on the bad, watching him. "Going somewhere?"

"Yeah." He flicked through a few papers Dazai had left, checking faces and abilities.

"Where?" The question was phrased almost reproachfully, as if she expected an answer without having to ask.

"I'm checking out a few of these locations," Chuuya replied. "Might as well get an early start."

"I'll go with you."

"This doesn't need two of us." He checked a pocket in his coat, making sure his switch blade was still there. "If you're really interested in helping out, you could check a few locations yourself."

Hiratsuka blinked. "Excuse me: 'helping out'?"

Chuuya looked at her. "Yeah; helping out. There a problem with that?"

They looked at each other for a moment. His eyes were sharp, challenging. She knew that look. After a moment, she let out a small, forced laugh and raised an eyebrow. "So that's how it's going to be?" He didn't reply, only broke eye contact and checked another pocket for a hunting knife. She sighed. "We're in this together, Nakahara. I'm not your damned assistant."

He knew that. Of course he knew that. But Dazai's words still echoed through his skull, and her betrayal had begun to reverberate in his chest, and the constant hum of pain in his bones had risen to a buzz since the fight that afternoon. He'd taken as much as he could stomach from Dazai; he was itching for a fight. He needed out of that room and out of that hotel and into some danger.

"I'm checking out their locations," Chuuya repeated. "Don't follow me." He walked out of the door before she could argue further.

He was standing outside the hotel in minutes. The night air was warm and a dry wind blew in from the desert. The stars above his head were more plentiful than the ones seen from the light-polluted streets of Yokohama. Something caught his eye; a red and black motorcycle was parked outside of the building. Something about it drew him to it. It was beautiful; the lines of the machine curved elegantly, minimalist in design and sleek in appearance.

A note was attached to the handlebar. He recognized the Japanese scrawl. He tore it free and read it quickly.

_You didn't think I'd leave you with nothing, did you? Consider it a pre-funerary gift in case you die in Luxor._

_-Dazai_

_P.S. – The bartender's mine. _

_P.P.S – I bought it with your money. Hope that's okay! _

Chuuya grinned and crumpled the note, stuffing it into a pocket. The key was in the ignition. He swung a leg over the seat and revved the engine. It roared to life, purring like a cat. "Oh, hell yeah," he muttered, leaning forward and grasping the handlebars.

It felt like a dream. He pulled it out of the parking lot and sped down the unfamiliar Egyptian streets. The wind blew through his hair and over his body, making his coat stream behind him. _This _was living. He shot through the streets, following his instinct, letting the part of him that didn't think take over. It was the opposite of Corruption – or Corruption as it should have been. The pain washed away, leaving electrified excitement in its wake; but it was a lack of control he could come out of without feeling like he'd been hit by a planet. It was sweet relief to feel the adrenaline coursing through him and know in the back of his mind that he wasn't in danger.

It took him over an hour to find the first location, and by the time he parked, he felt energy coursing through him. The only thing that could make this better was if there were armed guards inside.

The club was decorated in neon lights, advertising nightlife for the dissolute. Chuuya swung off the bike and waved to the guard at the door as he approached. "Yo, I hear this place is run by Anubis' Army. I want to talk to their representative." The guard looked at him like he'd grown an extra head, and Chuuya realized the man didn't speak Japanese. He tried again in English. This time, the guard tensed.

"Leave," he advised. "You're out of your depth, kid."

"I don't think so." Chuuya touched him and the man glowed faintly red, gravity's hold on him moving to the palm of Chuuya's hand. He was shoved back into the stone wall of the night club. Chuuya heard something crack and saw the guard's arm twist off his shoulder at an odd angle. "Why don't we try this again?" Chuuya picked the guard up by his neck, manipulating his field of gravity to make him light as a feather. "Where can I find someone connected to Anubis' Army?"

The guard choked and pointed with his good hand toward the club.

"Thanks." Chuuya dropped him and stepped over his body. He opened the door and went inside. Once through the entryway, his eyes flicked over the room. Directly across from him sat a low bar, decked out in all the flashy bottles promising spirits from across the world. Twenty or so people sat in stools at the bar, most grouped together in twos or threes, some alone. A small crowd of people danced on a checkered dance floor as colored lights and lasers flashed to the throbbing music. Armed guards were positioned at orderly intervals around the room, boldly carrying high-powered automatics. A boy in the corner caught his eye; no older than thirteen, hands firmly at his sides, motionless. What would a kid like that be doing there?

Chuuya walked to the bar and leaned on the countertop with his forearms. He pulled a photograph out of a pocket and slid it across to the bartender. The dancing lights timed to the throbbing music bounced off the image of the Ankh. "Know where I can find something like this?"

The bartender, a tall, dark-looking man with deep-set eyes, took one look at the picture and tried to snatch it away. Chuuya pulled it back and smirked. "So you do know something about it." He pocketed it again. "Where can I find it?"

"Who wants to know?"

Chuuya turned. A slim woman in a strappy, silver dress stood behind him, arms crossed. Her eyes flashed in the light. Chuuya smirked again. "It doesn't take you people long to give a reaction, huh?"

The woman took a step toward him. She unfolded her arms; in her left hand was an automatic handgun. "Who are you and what do you want with that artifact?"

Chuuya leaned back against the counter, relaxing. "I represent the Port Mafia of Yokohama, Japan. My boss is looking for it."

She took another step forward and held the gun at arm's length. The barrel was half a foot from Chuuya's head. He closed the distance, pressing his forehead into the cool metal. Surprise flickered across her pretty face. He stared straight into her eyes. "This'll go a lot easier if you give me the information, doll."

Her finger squeezed the trigger and a shot rang out. The bullet stayed in the barrel. Chuuya grinned at the shock on her face when he didn't keel over. She fired again, getting the same result. Chuuya could feel every eye in the room turn their way.

He brought his foot up and caught her side, sending her to the floor. She hit with a thump and lay motionless. The familiar sound of guns being moved into position was barely audible through the music. Every guard carrying a weapon had theirs trained on Chuuya. "This is more like it," Chuuya said. "I must have really touched a nerve to make you all this jumpy."

"Kill him," a strangled voice said. Chuuya glanced at the woman on the floor; her right temple was bleeding freely, but she was pushing herself up nonetheless. He felt something move behind him and sidestepped. A long, curved blade grazed his arm. He caught the man holding it by the wrist, using his other hand to snap his elbow. A turning kick to his side sent him crashing into one of the guards.

Gunfire filled the room. Chuuya waited patiently for them to finish this display. He always enjoyed the look of the enemy's face when bullets didn't kill him; it gave him a prideful sense of satisfaction. In a few seconds, the guards ceased fire, realizing something was wrong. Chuuya grinned wickedly as they gaped at him. A sweep of his arm brought the guards to the floor, their own bullets severing arteries and destroying organs.

The room shifted. Chuuya felt something soft and oppressive against his head. The noise in the room dulled to a muffled throb. Chuuya looked around the room for the source of the disturbance. The few guests left in the building seemed to have noticed it, too. They were looking around at each other, staring wide-eyed, shaking their heads as if trying to clear something from it.

It was hard to focus. The muffled sound screwed with his balance. He gripped the bar to stay upright. His eyes scanned the room again, passing over the guests who were starting to panic. The room became a flurry of people shoving one another, mouths open in soundless screams.

There.

Through the crowd of stampeding people, Chuuya saw the boy. His arms were outstretched, fists clenched. A pale, pink aura surrounded him. Chuuya tried to push through the crowd. He was jostled and kicked as he fought his way through. He saw the boy turn as if to run.

_No you don't! _Chuuya thought. He dove to avoid a civilian and drove his foot into the ground. A wave of gravity rippled through the floor. It caught the boy's leg, bringing him to the ground. Chuuya pushed through the rest of the rushing bodies and bent to grab the kid.

The boy turned and looked at him, eyes wide, like a cornered animal. Chuuya froze. An image flashed through his mind, blinding him to all else.

A boy of thirteen. Half his body was under an enormous block of masonry. He was screaming, laying in a spreading pool of his own blood. He'd been warned to move. He'd been told to get out of the way. It wasn't Chuuya'a fault he hadn't moved. Hands that looked like his own grabbed the boy and moved him from under the rock, but it was too late. His legs were crushed. The lower half of his torso was spurting blood. The boy's eyes faded and a ragged breath escaped his lungs before he stopped moving.

It took only a split second for the image to pass through his mind, but it was enough. Before he could blink, a sound like a jet engine ripped through his head. It made him reel back in pain. The boy jumped up, hand held with fingers splayed out. He dashed for the nearest exit.

Chuuya pushed the sound to the back of his mind and gave chase. The boy was fast, but, as Chuuya reasoned wryly, he wasn't fast enough to escape gravity. As the noise in the room increased, Chuuya pushed a hand forward and brought it back to himself. The boy's feet sank into the floor before being pulled right back to Chuuya. The gravity user bent and grabbed the kid by his collar, pulling him to his feet. He shoved him against the wall just hard enough to startle him.

The sound in the room flickered, ceasing for a moment as the boy's hand struck the wall. The pink aura faded, too. The boy gave a strangled cry that might have been a word, but it was one Chuuya didn't understand.

"You little punk," Chuuya growled in Japanese. He realized his mistake when the boy didn't react, and switched to English. "Who do you work for? Anubis' Army?"

The boy rattled off a string of words in what Chuuya assumed was Arabic.

"Do you speak English?"

The boy didn't respond except to struggle. He tried to throw Chuuya off him. His arm raised and a snap of sound hit Chuuya like a gunshot, but he held on. He crushed the boy's hand back against the wall, making sure to keep it pinned. The sound stopped immediately.

The kid was new to using his ability. He still need physical motions to control it.

Chuuya thought fast. If the kid couldn't speak English and he couldn't speak Arabic, then there was no point in questioning him, and therefore no reason to stick around. But if he let the kid go, he'd either be facing the child again, or the boy would be killed for his failure. Chuuya couldn't stomach that. He could kill the boy, but as a vague and general rule, he would rather not kill children. The only option left was to take him along and see if Hiratsuka could get anything out of him.

He turned the boy around and pulled his arms around his back, holding them in one hand. Using his ability, he pushed gravity through the boy's arms and made them too heavy to lift. Without further ceremony, stepping over the bodies of the guards, Chuuya dragged with the boy with him and took him back to the hotel.


End file.
